Savvy Poem – Old Towns Cry


New towns.


A new town crushing the old.

Dawley? Madeley? Both gone.

The people? New.

Brought fresh in.

Fresh in from London.

Fresh in, complete with new blood, still to be spilled over.

Spilt blood in Shropshire’s fertile fields. Fresh growth.



Instead, yellow bricks and concrete slabs, stained blood-red pink with new blood.

New blood calling, taunting, playing with the old.

Old blood.

Old blood, buried – starved!

New life killing, again, the already dead.

New life unanchored and unfettered by the old spills over and leaves …


The old towns cry.


Copyright owned by Jay Cool, The Silly-Savvy Salopian, 7th January 2020

Image by Markus Distelrath from Pixabay

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Published by The Silly-Savvy Salopian

Freelance writer and descendant of the cave dweller and outlaw, Humphrey Kynaston. Banished from Shropshire for my eccentricity, I have made my home in Suffolk. I write poetry, short stories, travel journals, comedy gig reviews and non-fiction articles. My wish is to write my way back into the heart of my birth land. All writing commissions (and free holidays in Shropshire!) considered.

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